


Putting the "RP" in "ERP"

by Bobsled_Hostage



Category: Eclipse Phase, Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent Fantasy, Eclipse Phase - Freeform, F/M, Multi, Restraints, Role-Playing Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7420807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobsled_Hostage/pseuds/Bobsled_Hostage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when agents of an interplanetary terrorist conspiracy finally catch the government intelligence agent behind the nefarious schemes they've been foiling?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting the "RP" in "ERP"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TriadicUniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriadicUniverse/gifts).



> _I want to see some sexy roleplaying gone horribly awry. Whether it's a trio of wizards, snooty highblood punishing his lowblood/alien slaves, 'oh noes i'm a poor, hot, defenseless human girl who's been abducted by these hot aliens,' notorious (but kind-hearted) rogue kidnaps tyrannical prince with the help of her loyal and magical sass friend, or anything else that strikes your fancy--give me these three nerds getting way too in character until they almost forget that they were ever planning to fuck. They'll get back on track eventually, we hope._

“Come any closer and you’ll be spending the rest of your lives peeled into wafer thin layers in an SCI simspace, Firewall frankenfreaks!”  The feisty fascist fujoshi studied her two assailants, excellent brain frantically plotting angles of attack and avenues of escape.  They’d somehow wormed their way past her defenses, this pair of saboteurs from the interplanetary terrorist conspiracy which had foiled her every scheme, and now they were here, in her room.  She wasn’t backed up, if they killed her this would be it.   _And why the fuck did they have to catch her in her gym clothes?_

“I think you’ll find, mith Ortega,” the psychopathic psychic psychosurgeon licked his lips with a tongue longer than a normal human had any right to have, “That your thafeguardth have been mythteriouthly dithabled.”

“And don’t even fuckin’ think a’ callin’ that section a’ marines you wwere countin’ on to safeguard your little bolthole here, bitch.”  The amoral aquanaut assassin rolled an opened balisong over the back of his hand, twirling and snapping it shut.  “Or do, but don’t be surprised if it turns out they don’t answwer on account a’ bein’ dead.  Permanent-like.”

“ _Hijo de puta!_  They were just soldiers doing their job, you animal!”

“Wwell I hope for their sakes their job wwas gettin’ their throats cut by the best assassin in the wwhole damn Hidden Concern, if I do say so myself.”  He tossed the knife aside and unsheathed his vicious bioware claws.

Ortega’s eyes went wide, gaze skittering wildly from the assassin’s killer talons and the brainhack’s flexing fingers, crackling with the eelware implanted beneath his skin.  The two corralled her into the corner of the room, backed up against the bed, smiling and cackling at her increasing heart rate, the smell of her fear.  

“Last warning, _cabrones!_ ” she shouted, mere moments before they pounced.

It turned out that, despite her extensive training in hand to hand fighting, courtesy of her tenure in the Jovian Space Force, the 120 pound hacker was unable to fight off the pair of bloodthirsty terrorists.  The Firewall sentinels soon had her pinned to the bed, wrists cuffed to the headboard on her back in exactly the position that suited them.

“You wanna torture me, genetrash?” the cyberpuke spat at them.  “There isn’t a damn thing I know that’s going to get you fucks out of this alive!”

The psychic grinned, eyes shining bright with inhuman cruelty.  “Oh, my thweet, we aren’t going to hurt you!”  He placed his hands on her face, thumbs pressing into her cheeks just below her eyes.  “Well, maybe _juth a little_.”  She fidgeted and tried to bite his hands as he warmed up.  With a barely perceptible spark of energy, the async gave his prisoner a taste of his gruesome psychic abilities, visibly jolting her.

Ortega screamed.  She screamed and thrashed and screamed again, eyes rolled back, legs kicking violently until the fishman could get his hands around her ankles and pin them to the bed.

“Fuckin’ hell Rox, are-”

“ORTEGA”

“Ah shit sorry, I thought you wwere-”

“Maritza Maria, NNH, Security C-council Intelligence Analyst G… Grade Seven, Citizen Number one eight three four oh, oh, OH, OHHHH.”  Her attempt to list her name, rank and serial number was spoiled by a cry of something unmistakably quite distinct from pain.  The psychic kept his hands firmly positioned on her face, probing furiously with his powers while his helpless victim spasmed at his touch, pumping her hips with obvious want.

“Typical batheline,” he shoved a hand between her legs.  “You thcream and thcream about what awful monthterth uth poththumanth are,” Ortega pushed her crotch into his hand, face flushed, “but onthe we get down to what you _really_ want…”

The fishman obligingly tugged her shorts down her skinny legs.  Her lips were flushed, bush sticky and practically plastered flat, and he scoffed at the evidence of her embarrassing reaction to the async’s horrifying abilities.  “Not even wwearin’ underwwear, bitch?  Wwanted to make it that much easier for a couple a’ posthumans to get inside ya?”

“Nno, please,” the hacker squirmed, cuffed hands fisting futilely, trying to hide her arousal between her legs.  “Don’t..”  But the psychic was already unzipping his pants, the assassin grabbing her knees and forcing her legs apart.

“Jutht think, if my handth felt that good, how are my dickth going to feel?”

“D-dicks?”

“You heard me, babythkateth.”  

His pants hit the floor.  Ortega was transfixed.  He either had a sick sense of humor or whoever had biosculpted his morph did, because those were definitely two sausages, moving of their own accord, wrapping around one another and seeking something to slide into.  She shuddered, knowing that something was her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.  The killer’s iron grip kept her from shying away while the brainhack climbed between her legs.

“You can still get out of this aliveeeEEEEE” she shrieked as both of the questing dicks entered her at once.  Her hands fisted helplessly.  The psychic groaned and grabbed her hips, making sure he was all the way inside before giving her a jolt that had her howling and wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Now that you’re seein’ things our wway, maybe you feel like tellin’ us wwho the fuckin’ mole is!”  The Hidden Concern’s deadliest hired killer was inches from her face, fangs gleaming.  She rolled her head to look at him through half lidded eyes.  As though in a dream, she opened her mouth as if to speak, then bit his lower lip, opening a small cut in spite of his durable bioweave skin.

“Fuckin’ bitch!”  Ortega licked her lips and tried to shout something, but the psychic gave her another pulse and it came out as a shriek.  “...Roll her ovver, let’s see if she’s so fuckin’ clevver wwith both of us goin’ to wwork on her.”  The hacker yelped in protest as the psychic pulled both dicks out of her with a wet slurping sound, rolling her onto her belly and situating himself beneath her.  Before she could press her hips down onto his twin cocks, he grabbed her ass with both hands, spreading her for his partner.

The amphibious assassin climbed onto her from behind, mounting her roughly.  “No, no no please no, don’t-”  He cut her off by stuffing the tip of his dick in her ass.  She opened her mouth in shock, suddenly unable to make any sound at all.  The slippery fish cock bored into her from behind, the slippery fishman bit down on her shoulder with his needle sharp teeth and hummed with delight at the way she squeezed his dick with her anus.

The psychic cackled, “You’d better relax, thlut, wouldn’t want to tear thomething and have to thpend the nextht five hourth double fucking you in a healing vat.”

The little Jovian hacker didn’t respond, couldn’t respond.  It was too much.  Her small frame was packed with far more dick than she could reasonably be expected to accommodate, a psychic was playing hell with her nerve endings and the only sound she could have reasonably been expected to make was a moan.  And moan she did, over and over, syncing up with the rippling exhuman dicks inside her.  The fishman cruelly pinched her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt and she started crying for real.  Everything hurt.  Everything felt way, way too good.  The sentinels grunted and hissed abuse, fucking her until she was a sobbing, wet, oversensitive mess, cumming two, three times and begging them to please, please stop before they finally, mercifully pulled out, painting her with an ocean of slimy transhuman seed.

They at least waited a minute for her to stop hyperventilating before they resumed the heckling.

“Wwell, Miss Ortega, are you feelin’ a bit more cooperative?  Wwana tell us wwho it wwas wwhat sold us out?”

The hacker tried to flip herself over and glare.  She managed, instead, to wriggle a little, exhausted and leaking posthuman cum, eyes red with tears.  “Fffffuuck you, genetrash.”

“Well, you athked for it”  The psychic turned and climbed back onto the bed, kneeling and jerking himself back to attention.

“I wwas hopin’ she’d say that.  I get her nook this time.”

“It’th called a cunt, geniuth.”  The psychic elbowed the fish and the two squabbled briefly, before turning their attention back to their captive.

 

The interrogation continued long into the night.

 

 

More than a few orgasms later, followed by a few towels, band aids and kisses, the three slunk downstairs, clad only in a hastily assembled mix of underwear, robes and t shirts.  They retook their places at the kitchen table, strewn with character sheets, dice, half finished drinks and a laptop long gone into sleep mode.

“If every campaign ith going to end thith way we thhould meet twice a week.”

“Yeah, but I wwana GM, I’m sick a’ you gettin’ all the attention,” Eridan glowered at Roxy.

Roxy grinned, then winced a little as she sat down.  “Weeeeeeelll…”  She sipped her improvised Moscow Mule, abandoned in the transition from tabletop to bedroom, now warm and flat but reclaimed nonetheless.  “I was hopin’ to roll out one I’ve been schlickin’ it to...” she stretched languidly, completely relaxed.  “Where the genius Firewall agents get caught beatin’ up on a Jovian citizen, right?  And then one show trial later, they get dumped in the Republic’s nasty superprison,  Merry… Maori…”

“Maui Patera” Sollux offered.

“That one.”  She pressed her toes to his calf under the table.  “They get sent there, right?  Minus all those scary weapons and augs so they’re just a couple a’ cute nerd boys in the slammer, just waiting-”

“No.  No wway in hell am I gettin’ railroaded into some shitty prison scenario, I had a wwhole escape plan all wworked out, you saww it and there’s _no wway_ Security Council Intelligence coulda caught us.”

Roxy snorted booze and lime, giggling at the scowling fishtroll and his insistence on player agency, but Sollux backed him up.  “I’m with Eri on thith one Roxthy, prithon breakths are lame ath all hell.”

“Well maybe if you’d lemme finish,” Roxy mock pouted, punching the psionic in the shoulder.  “The only railroading I’m interested in is the kind what happens to a couple of twinks when they get locked inna cell with the biggest, meanest, horniest thugs the Junta ever locked up.”

Sollux frowned, ignoring the way his nook dilated at the thought.  “I thtill don’t thee what you need uth for, if thith ith juth a jill off fantathy for you there’th no need to wreck the whole thtory over it.”

Eridan looked pensive.  “...I bet wwe could get Jake to be one a’ the thugs.”

Roxy laughed again, taking both their hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Cast  
> Roxy: GM taking the role of the principal antagonist, Maritza Maria Ortega the Jovian Infowar Specialist  
> Sollux: Piter Ataturk the Psychic Psychosurgeon  
> Eridan: Frast Desjardins the Aquanaut Assassin
> 
> Special thanks to /epg/


End file.
